Classic Poem

Sonet 3.

Ladie whome by reporte, I only knowe,
Yet knowe so well as I must thee adore:
To honoure thee what need I seeke for more?
Thow art his sister whome I honoured so.

Yet million tongues reporte doth further showe
Of thy perfections, both such worth and store
As wante of seeing thee paynes me sore
As sight of others hath procur'd my woe.

All parts of beautie meeting in one place
Doe dazle eye, feed loue, and ravish witte:
Thy perfect shape envies thy princely grace.

Thy minde all say like to thy brother is,
What need I then say more to honoure it?
For I haue praysed thyne by praysing his.